


Road to Leningrad

by Lasgalendil



Category: Captain America (Comics), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Fingering, Bisexual Steve Rogers, Captain America White, Comic Book Violence, First Kiss, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Frottage, Gay Bucky Barnes, M/M, Podfic Welcome, Stucky - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-09
Updated: 2016-09-09
Packaged: 2018-08-14 00:54:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7992646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lasgalendil/pseuds/Lasgalendil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Buck’s gone rigid. And there’s—oh, hell, there’s—fear, that’s <em> fear </em>  in his wide eyes, the like Steve’s never seen. Not facing Nazis or HYDRA, not stranded in the Pacific with the Howlies and no hope of rescue, not when Master Man, Toro and Namor were wrecking havoc in the skies above Kronas. Damned kid’d been through the Depression, death of his parents, years of hell in a war zone, lived through so much, seen so damned much, and <em> Steve Rogers </em> is what scares him—?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Road to Leningrad

**Author's Note:**

  * For [spitandvinegar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/spitandvinegar/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Except it Abide in the Vine](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7910536) by [spitandvinegar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/spitandvinegar/pseuds/spitandvinegar). 



> Regarding underage: _Captain America White (2015)_ puts Bucky at age 16, with Steve being "6 or 7 years" older. Ed Brubaker's _Captain America: Winter Soldier (2005)_ gives Bucky's age as 16 and Steve Rogers' as 20. As Brubaker is the one who brought Bucky back from the dead and has called the MCU a queer reading of Cap and Bucky's relationship, I'm gonna go with his interpretation.

It’s cold.  
  
It’s a land war in Russia in the winter time, Rogers, of course it’s cold. They’re East on the ice supply road, just miles outside Leningrad, and you can see the flash of the shelling off in the distance like lightning. But it’s not the bombs that wake him up. It’s Bucky.  
  
They’re huddled together for warmth. No fires—can’t risk it. Been sharing the same too-thin sack for weeks now, and James—Buck’s—been a real champ about it. Not a word of complaint. It’s not easy being a soldier. Even less so when you’re just a goddamned kid. But he’s good. Never a word about food running low, about the wind and cold and wet that soaked them both down to the bone, not even the trench foot that’d nearly killed him. Damned kid just tucked his face down in the sack and slept as restless and fitful as he could. Never a complaint about the cold. The hunger. The thirst. The fear.  
  
…the loneliness.

But he is now, isn’t he. Hard and rutting against Steve’s leg, gasping out in his sleep. Steve doesn’t know whether to be still, to ignore and just let him sleep, or to shake Buck, wake him the hell up when Bucky comes with a little cry, the shock of orgasm pushing him from slumber.  
  
“C-Cap!” he manages to stammer. “I, um—“  
  
But they way he is, the way they are, tangled together, entwined and trapped, Buck having fallen asleep with his nose, his hands, his feet all tucked up against him “can’t help it you’re like a goddamn furnace, Rogers”, well. There’s no hiding, no excusing away what just happened.  
  
…Just like there’s no denying his own hard-on, pressed into the hollow of Bucky’s hip.  
  
Buck’s gone rigid. And there’s—oh, hell, there’s—fear, that’s _fear_ in his wide eyes, the like Steve’s never seen. Not facing Nazis or HYDRA, not stranded in the Pacific with the Howlies and no hope of rescue, not when Master Man, Toro and Namor were wrecking havoc in the skies above Kronas. Damned kid’d been through the Depression, death of his parents, years of hell in a war zone, lived through so much, seen so damned much, and _Steve Rogers_ is what scares him—?  
  
“I—“ Buck swallows, tears welling in those brown eyes. Whispers, “I can go. I’ll just go. Jesus fuck I’m sorry, Cap, I’ll—“  
  
Steve rolls them. Puts Buck’s small shoulders and back against the frozen ground. Grinds—hesitantly, gently—against him. And—hell. It’s good. That’s good. Steve gasps, nearly comes on the spot. He’s never—not once in twenty years—ever done this. Not with someone else. James—Buck—is a pain in his ass, teases him about his virginity, his lack of experience but this, God, what had he been _missing_ —?  
  
Buck lets out a groan, and the sound is sinful. “Cap—?”  
  
Steve ruts against him. Buck makes a whimpering sound, spreads his little legs, gets his feet up and around Steve’s ass, pulls himself closer, flush with Steve. And God they’re, they’re, they’re _doing this_ , through coats and clothes, chaffing and huffing and just chasing that friction. Buck’s breath comes out in gasps of fog beneath him, and shit, _shit he’s beautiful_ like that, lashes and lips strung with snow, prettier than any girl’s and Steve’s leaning down, bracing his arms on either side of Buck’s face and brings his mouth—  
  
Their noses bump. Teeth clack. Buck lets out an unpleasant little hiss as he grinds up into Steve. “Sorry—“ Steve mumbles.  
  
“Christ on a cross, Cap,” Buck moans. “You really ain’t never kissed no one before, huh?”  
  
And suddenly he’s what, so aware? ashamed? of what he’s doing. He’s a twenty year-old virgin, he’s a goddamn queer, he’s—Jesus, he’s—kissing—fucking—a kid, Buck’s _just a goddamn kid_ and Steve’s hurting him fuck, fuck, he’s such shit—  
  
But Buck’s mouth is back against his, lips soft and warm, just opening, inviting, exploring the possibilities of Steve’s lips, his teeth, his tongue, and it’s just as gentle as it is urgent. And his hands—Jesus, Buck’s cold hands—are cupping Steve’s ass through his pants, kneading at him like a purring cat, and okay, that’s a hand Jesus Christ that’s a _finger_ pressing up against his hole and Steve bites down on his own arm and fuck, fuck, _Bucky_ —  
  
And it’s all white behind his eyes, nothing to do with the snow and that rhythm they’d mounted gets shot all to hell and Steve’s pretty sure he’s pinned all his weight on the poor kid and fuck, fuck no one ever told him it’d feel like _this_ —  
  
“Sorry,” Steve gasps as he comes down.  
  
Buck lets out a little laugh. Kisses him sweetly. “Jesus, don’t apologize, doll.”  
  
“Doll—?” Steve sputters.  
  
“You just came with my finger up your ass, so yeah, Cap. 'Doll' just about does it,” Bucky grins. And there’s no trace of that shyness, that terror left in his adoring eyes. “Now help a fella out and spoon me, okay?”  
  
“Jesus,” Steve whispers.

“Nope. Just me,” Buck nestles back into his arms, head resting against Steve’s chest.

“You—you okay?”

“Me? I’m fine, pal. Just came twice in what? Five minutes? Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” Buck lets out a little laugh and wraps his cold fingers up with Steve’s. “Could really use a cigarette, that’s all. Damned Nazis.”  
  
_Could really use a cigarette, that’s all_. He’d—he’d known. Of course Buck’d had experience before, but shit, they’d just—he’d just—did it really all mean _nothing_ —?  
  
“You’re real quiet, Cap,” Buck says, stroking his hands. “You okay?”  
  
“Was it me,” Steve finally asks. “Or was it him?”

Buck chuckles. “Take a look around, Rogers. Ain’t exactly anyone else here but us, pal.”  
  
“No. Was it— _Steve_. Or just Cap.”  
  
“What, we just fucked and _now_ you’re worried about bein’ a 4F—?”  
  
“People don’t see me. They don’t see Steve Rogers. They just see…” Steve trails off. Swallows. “All this.”  
  
Buck squirms in his arms. Turns his fierce little face up, lays a hand against Steve’s jaw. “Cap, they coulda put anyone in that damned costume. Clark Gable. Gary Cooper. Be just as pretty in the pictures. But it’s _you_ that makes it more than just an outfit, ya mook. You’re what makes it _Cap_.”  
  
“You didn’t know me,” Steve voices those insecurities. “Before.”  
  
“Pshaw, Rogers, ya dumb sap. Maybe I never met skinny Steve Rogers, but I’ve been puttin’ the moves on you since Lehigh, ‘fore I ever knew you was Cap an’ you were just some bumbling blond private clumsier than a cat in bathwater.”  
  
Now it’s Steve’s turn to chuckle. He kisses the top of Bucky’s head. “Since Lehigh, huh?”  
  
Buck sighs. Rolls those big brown eyes like it was obvious. “Oh, c’mon, Rogers. You never got around to wonderin’ what it was I was doin’ in your tent that night in the _first place_ —?”

**Author's Note:**

> "Of course, this is still a rollicking adventure tale, and no adventure is complete without a love story. And, yes, these books have one—the longest, most tortured one in Marvel history, in fact. We're talking about Steve and Bucky, without smirking or innuendo or raised eyebrows. Platonic though the relationship may be, from the meet cute to the tragic separation, their bond has all the elements of a classic romance. These two men love each other—as any pair of friends who faced exclusion, combat, inhumanity, and death would."
> 
> —Christopher Markus & Stephen McFeely. Introduction. Captain America White. 4 December 2015. 
> 
> ...yeah, no, guys. I'm just gonna go ahead and call it queer-baiting, both in print and on screen. I didn't like Captain America White or the MCU's "no homo", so I fixed it.


End file.
